Dear Gilligan
by EveningInHornersCorners
Summary: Rejection always hurts, especially when it seems to confirm everything derogatory that has ever been said to or about you. But sometimes there's a catch...


"Gilligan?"

The first mate groaned. "Please, Mom, let me sleep just a little longer. I'll get up extra early tomorrow to make up for it. I _promise_."

"Gilligan, I…"

"Wait, is that you Gloria? I'm telling you what, sis, you do a lousy imitation of Mom."

"Gilligan, I'm…"

"Why do you always do this on Saturdays? Geez!"

"GILLIGAN, IT'S TUESDAY AND I'M NOT YOUR SISTER. OR YOUR MOTHER!"

The red clad sailor reluctantly peeled open his eyes. "Oh, hi Skipper."

"Gilligan, would you quit calling me 'Mom' when I try to wake you up?" the ship captain growled.

"Sorry, Skipper." He swung his legs over and slid off his hammock. "But you don't have to get so mad, you know."

"I'm sorry, Gilligan. I probably shouldn't have yelled at you like. Especially since this happens practically every morning." The portly man sighed. "I guess my nerves are just a little worn. That storm last night had me scared."

"Really?" Gilligan asked, surprised.

"Yeah." Then, quickly thinking of the consequences of making that statement, the Skipper added, "But don't tell the others. Pinky swear." He held out his smallest finger. The first mate hooked his with it.

"I super duper triple swear I won't say anything."

"You better not." the captain warned. "Because I could break your pinkie just like _that_." He snapped his fingers. Gilligan cringed.

"I won't tell."

"Okay. Now let's go and have breakfast. We'll need it. You should see the amount of debris that washed up onshore."

The two exited the hut and started in the direction of the communal table.

###

The storm had carried off the majority of their stored goods, so a flustered Mary Ann had resorted to just plain coconut, and while she was in the "kitchen" trying everything and anything to make it even the slightest bit more palatable, the Professor gathered the rest of the castaways together for a little meeting.

"I would be greatly obliged if none of you would make any unsavory comments about the quality of our repasts today. The fact that most of our rations were carried off has Mary Ann perturbed enough as it is, and I see no point in furthering her suffering anymore than absolutely necessary. She's already concerned that we will not be contented with her best efforts."

"Huh?" the first mate asked.

"Oh, Gilligan!" the Skipper snapped, "He said he would appreciate it if we wouldn't say anything mean about Mary Ann's cooking today because she's upset enough that we lost most of our stored food in the storm and she's worried we won't be happy with what she's cooking today, so we don't want to hurt her feelings."

"But Mary Ann's cooking is always great!" Gilligan exclaimed.

"Keep it down!" the captain hissed. "Don't get me wrong; I'm glad you feel that way, Gilligan, but still, don't say anything bad, okay?"

"Okay." The first mate shrugged.

"Here she comes." The scientist noted, sitting down and trying to look as natural as possible.

When she reached the table, carrying a tray of roasted coconut, the first mate said, "Don't worry, Mary Ann, I won't say anything mean about your cooking today. The Professor told us…"

"OH, GILLIGAN!" the blue clad sailor yelled at the top of his lungs. Then he got up and walked over to Mary Ann. "I'm sorry, sweetie, Gilligan is just plain tactless sometimes…" he chuckled nervously, then looked back at his shipmate with daggers in his eyes.

The Kansan looked fairly bewildered. Finally, she cleared her throat and smiled. "It's fine, Skipper. I didn't expect you to say anything mean, Gilligan. And Professor, I, uh…" The coconut on the tray became a sudden object of interest for her eyes. "I _did_ grow up on a farm, you know, and if you mess up to a certain extent in that living situation, you don't eat. So, for future reference, I _can_ take an insult or two."

"Mary Ann, it wasn't my intention…" the scientist began. She held up a hand.

"You know what…just…never mind. Forget I mentioned it." She slammed the tray on the table and sat down next to Gilligan and the Skipper. "Help yourselves." She said quietly, gesturing to the coconut. Ginger reached for the dish and spooned out some, then passed it to Mr. Howell.

The group was silent as the dish made its way around the table. A few pairs of eyes met, but no one spoke. The sea salt circumnavigated in a similar way to the coconut, and everyone began to eat. Then the Professor abruptly put down his fork.

"I…uh…was…uh…going through the debris this morning and I…uh…found something of…interest…" He reached down to the sand and picked up something by his feet. The other six looked up.

Mary Ann laughed mirthlessly. "That's…_very_ interesting." She went back to her coconut.

But the rest of the castaways kept their eyes fixed on the item in the Professor's hand.

"A message in a bottle? How quaint!" Mrs. Howell exclaimed.

"Who would like to have the honor of opening the bottle and reading the message to us?" the Professor asked, surveying his companions. He cleared his throat. "How about you Gilligan?"

"Oh, Professor I…"

"Gilligan," the Skipper fixed a stern gaze on the first mate, "Turning down the Professor on this island is like turning down the President of the United States."

"And he's just as un-Republican." Mr. Howell muttered.  
"Okay, I'll open the bottle," Gilligan shrugged. "If I _have_ to."

The Professor passed it to the Skipper, who passed it over Mary Ann's head to Gilligan.

The first mate took a deep breath. "Here goes." he murmured, pulling the cork. Reaching inside, he delicately pulled out the rolled up paper contained within. It uncoiled in his hands, and his eyes scanned the first line.

"Well, Gilligan, read it to us." the teacher prompted.

But the red clad sailor didn't read it to them. Instead, he cast it to the ground and high-tailed for his hut.


End file.
